Natasha sighed as she stared out the window of the plane, watching the clouds fly past. The inside of the plane was clouded by a thick silence that was only breached by Clint's occasional snoring. The low hum of the engines was like a spell and she yawned sleepily, blinking to keep herself awake. Part of her wanted to sleep, but her brain was alert and wide awake as she thought about the man that sat across the aisle from her. It had been three months since Paris. Three months since she had made a friend. IT was still hard for her to believe that Clint had somehow wormed his way in, that he had breached all her defenses. Hard to believe, but not necessarily a bad thing. She had to admit to herself that she enjoyed his company, most of the time-he did have the tendency to be an ass at times. Another yawn escaped her body and she sighed once more, shaking her head. She was thinking far too much lately.

"You should get some rest. " Clint's voice shattered the silence, starling her. She frowned as she turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I am fine."

"Yeah, right. We've been flying for ten hours now and you have yet to get some rest. I promise I won't let the plane crash or anything- get some sleep."

"I don't know…"

"Take a nap, Tasha." Clint smirked at her.

"Fine." Natasha glared at him before closing her eyes, her breathing slowing as she relaxed.

Clint studied her for a moment, a slight smile on his face, as he thought about the last year and a half. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that he was working with the person who he had been sent to kill; that one of America's most wanted assassins was now on his side. And now she was his friend. Clint shook his head at that thought, sighing. Only a few people were close enough for him to a call friend, and now she was one of them. She was also his partner. Ever since their mission in Paris they had been sent on more missions together, quickly becoming one of the best teams in the world. Sometimes Clint felt as if he had known her his entire life, but other times she was still a stranger. He had to admit that they really didn't know anything about each other's past; it was a touchy subject and usually resulted in an argument when brought up. Both had their demons they wanted to hide. Both had red on their ledgers.

"Hey, Clint?" Natasha suddenly sat up and looked at him.

"Hmm?" Clint looked up at her, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up?" He absently picked at his nails.

"I was thinking about Paris…and your brother. You had said that the man gave you a knife in the basement….but then later you said you shot him. What happened?" She asked in a quiet tone.

"Ah," Clint made a face, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to force down painful memories.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked." Natasha pursed her lips.

"Nah, you are fine. Uh, Toby was the one who asked to be shot. The man, Tom Hankler, had drug us into the backyard, handed me a knife, and told me to get on with it. Toby knew I couldn't do it, so he asked to be shot. The man had laughed, handed me an extra gun, his own was pointed at me in case I tried anything, and told me to shoot him…I just closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. Toby was looking out for me, even in the face of death. The man left us alone then and I didn't see him again for a long time. I remember crying for what seemed like hours, and then I buried Toby." Clint sighed as ran a hand through his hair. Natasha just nodded slowly as silence crept into the air once more.

"What did he look like?" She finally asked.

Clint hesitated a moment before pulling his wallet out. He opened it and pulled out a photograph, offering it to her. She took it gingerly, feeling as if she was holding part of his childhood. Two young boys were in the picture, standing in front of a nice house. The shorter boy had blue grey eyes and untidy brown hair. He was lean and had a shit-eating grin, a familiar shit-eating grin; Clint's. The boy next to him was taller and stouter. He had bright green eyes and dark brown, almost black, hair. He had an easy-going smile on his face and his arm was slung over his younger brother's shoulders in a carefree manner.

"He was a good-looking kid." Natasha handed the picture back, a small smile playing at her lips.

"He was a good kid." Clint said softly.

"His brother is a good kid too." She touched his hand briefly, detecting the sadness in his voice. "Who do you look like, your mom or your dad?" Natasha knew she was prying, but for some reason she cared about his past, unlike the other people she knew.

"Toby looked like my mom; he got all the good looks." Clint chuckled, a nostalgic smile on his face. "I looked like my dad- a little taller, more ripped. Mom always said I was his mini." He smirked. "And what about you? Who do you look like?" Clint asked before he lost his nerve; he had spent months breaking down the walls that she had put up and he knew she wouldn't hesitate in throwing them back up.

"My mom…" Natasha sighed. Clint nodded, satisfied with the answer, but she continued speaking, much to his surprise. "I was an only child. My father worked for the Russian Intelligence Agency and my mother stayed with me so we wouldn't have to move around so much. I remember that we were happy…like a normal family." Natasha reached under her chair and pulled her bag out, digging through it for several moments before producing a picture. She passed it to Clint, who took it and began to take in every detail.

A tall man leaned against a tree, an easy-going smile on his face. The laugh lines on his face reflected the humor in his blue eyes and he had one arm around his wife's waist. His wife was shorter with red hair and green eyes that shone with love as she looked at her daughter; the young girl had a mess of red curls and bright green eyes. She was wearing a yellow dress with little white flowers, a wide smile on her face as she struck a pose. She looked happy and carefree, unlike the stern-faced woman that sat across from him.

"You need to smile," he handed the picture back to her with a grin.

"I do smile."

"No, you always give those half smiles or smirks. I've never seen you smile like that."

"That was a long time ago…back when there was something to smile about."

"Ok." Clint shrugged, not forcing the issue. "You were a cute little kid.

"Whatever," Natasha rolled her eyes, taking the picture back. She stared at the faces of her parents and her mind slowly took her back in time, back to a better place.

"Mommy!" Natalia giggled as her mother sat the birthday cake down in front of her. "It is so pretty!" She beamed up at her mother.

"Not as pretty as you." Her mother tapped her nose with a smile, pulling her into a hug. "Are you excited?"

"Of course she is excited!" A deep voice commented from the hall. Natalia squealed as she spun around, running straight into her father's arms. He swept her up and spun her in a circle, smiling. "Ah, darling. I missed you!"

"I missed you too daddy." Natalia hugged his neck, smiling.

"have you been behaving?"

"Of course!"

"I shouldn't have even asked." He father laughed as he sat her down. "I have a surprise for you."

"What?" Natalia grinned up him, squirming in excitement.

"Your mother and I have decided to let you have a puppy. We can go pick one out this evening."

Natalia squealed, hugging her father and then her mother. "Thank you!"

"Of course," her father laughed. Now let's eat some cake!"

"We had just sat down to eat cake when it happened," Natasha finally spoke, voicing her thoughts. Clint leaned forward, listening to everything she had to say. "It was my twelfth birthday party. My father had just came home from an over seas assignment. We were sitting at the table, eating cake and talking about puppies when we heard something crash upstairs. My father reached for his gun, only to remember it was upstairs in his suitcase. Footsteps could be heard overhead and my father quickly urged us into the coat closet. He said he was going to go upstairs to take care of things. He gave my mother a kiss and hugged me, telling us he loved us. And then he was gone. We waited in silence for what seemed like hours; I clung to my mother like the helpless child I was, crying silently. We heard a gunshot but we weren't sure who's it was; my father's or the intruders? A few minutes later we heard footsteps and they weren't my father's. The man found us then. He pulled us out of the closet and shot my mother before leaving me there to suffer alone. I ran away in shame and fear. I lived on the street for months...and then Ian found me." Her tone turned cold at the last statement and Clint knew she was done sharing.

"You never forget those last moments." Clint shook his head sadly.

"No, you don't." Natasha agreed bitterly. "I don't believe in ghost, but a memory is haunting."

"I will drink to that. Why don't you get some sleep? We will be landing in a few hours- I'll keep an eye on things."

"Okay." Natasha didn't argue with him this time and instead closed her eyes, leaning her head back. She was tired and wanted to escape the thoughts that clouded her head.

"Hey, Tasha?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for sharing that with me." Clint touched her shoulder before heading towards the rear of the plane. Natasha nodded slowly before closing her eyes once more, determined to escape reality, even if it was only for a few hours.

Thoughts, Opinions, Rude remarks? I just threw this together tonight for you guys since my internet has been out for days. I have you enjoyed: Just trying to get my version of their back stories out there since they will be coming into play later. Next up...Budapest!